Page 25 of Room 13: Bred By the Bears

“I don’t have any pennies,” I explained. “But since pennies are made from copper, it’s the same I figure.”

“No pennies necessary when you create things like this.”

She pointed to the piece and went silent again.

“I can’t tell if this is good silence of bad silence, sweet one.”

“Is Obi right?” her voice was so whisper quiet I could barely hear her over the ambient noise of the pier.

“Sure, I can see what he’s saying.” I hedged.

“Then itisn’tme? Just a generic woman?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I cooed in her ear, swaying to music only I could hear.

Effortless. That’s how it felt interacting with Miele. Regardless of if it was discussing a piece of business or getting together at Club Sin. She spun in my arms to face me. I felt her assessing gaze studying me, looking for something I’d willing give to her if she just asked. Without knowing where her head was, I didn’t know if I should ask for forgiveness, navigate a land mine, or prepare for compliments.

“I don’t want you to tell me what I want to hear. I want to know what this is. What you were thinking when you made it.”

There wasn’t an ounce of heat in her voice. She didn’t seem mad. If anything the crease between her eyebrows and her wide, fire meets stone eyes blazed with curiosity.

“You are all I can think about lately,” I said, wrapping a strand of her hair around my fingers to inspect the multiple hues. “Whether that’s thinking about what we’ve done together, what more Iwantto do to, or simply thinking about you when we’re not together and wondering what you are doing. Or how you’re feeling. If you’re having a good day. I hope that one day you’ll want to meet us for coffee or have lunch with us. That you will tip your head close to one of ours and share secrets with us like you do Chantilly. I want to bathe in your laughter, witness when you are absolutely delighted with something you heard. Being with you these past weeks, unlocked something…here.”

I pressed against my rib cage, trying to slow the tornado of words.

“I wanted to honor that. The torrent of creativity. It arrived when you arrived, my gorgeous muse.”

Growing up in Louisiana, you come face to face with all kinds of scary shit. Whether that’s gigantic bugs, killer animals that hide in plain sight, or some of the creepier aspects of hoodoo and voodoo. I thought all of that had inoculated me against feeling true fear. Yet I stood in front of a woman who’d winnowed her way behind the closely guarded safe of my creative well and kicked that door wide open.

Her face gave nothing away. Did she want to be my muse? Was the idea so repulsive that she’d walk away? I knew just as the other guys did she wanted nothing more than casual play. But was becoming a muse, even unintentionally over that firmly drawn line? I hoped not. I hadn’t felt so alive creatively in years. And it was because she was a perfect fit for me, and my friends. My body felt a settled satisfaction so bone deep, I couldn’t even remember what I felt like before meeting her.

“Your muse,” she whispered it, running her finger along the strands of metal that made up the waves of her hair. “And this is how you see me?”

“Sweet thing, I don’t understand the question.”

“This work of art. It’s beautiful.She’sbeautiful. There is a serenity to her. Her lips are so relaxed, but she’s smiling like she knows a secret. And her eyes are so soft, I want to whisper in her pretend ear and unburden myself of all thoughts and ails.”

“Then you and I have matching feelings.” I pushed her hair away from her ear and whispered to her. “Youarebeautiful. Observing you in your element, as you direct your team to execute your vision, or you charm Arnaut into shelling over an extra ten thousand for your project so you can get thatspecialtywallpaper for reception, or how you bring your portfolio to a lunch meeting so we can fully understand your vision and position. Every aspect of you is intoxicating. Your confidence. Charm. I’m defenseless against it all.”

The smell of her shampoo, and the damp kiss of sweat collecting along her hairline, the warmth of her skin from the rising humidity—it was all an intoxicating combination that called to me on a cellular level. It was more than our sexual compatibility. Even more than the way we connected intellectually. Something about Miele knowing me as artist and knowing me as a lover there was a connection there that I’d yet to experience. Shegotme. My art. My point of view. The things I wanted to convey.

“Can I take you for a ride?” I asked. Having her be so familiar with my art in such an intimate way, I needed more. I wanted her to seeme. All of me. Not just Trygg the sculptor or Ryker the kink partner.

“I’m pretty sure this plug I’m sporting speaks to you having carte blanche over my body.”

“Is that so, Pet?” Obi grabbed her by her waist and dropped her onto a nearby table. “And here I thought you said under no uncertain terms do we extend our play to outside the club.”

“Did you forget this one couldn’t even stick to that rule for twenty-four hours or have you all forgotten that he bent me over the bathroom sinkat my place of businessand licked my secret hole.”

Her secret hole. Christ. The dichotomy between her propriety and her voracious sexual appetite was so damn hot. I wanted to make her say every dirty thing I could think of just so I could fuck the embarrassment right off those lips.

In my defense the last person I expected to see was her. We were just as surprised as she was. And seeing her in thattake me seriously I’m a businesswomanoutfit, had me instantly hard and fighting restraint.

“I think we determined that was an unexpected encounter. I don’t think any of us expected to cross paths in our professional lives,” Obi pointed out with a chuckle.

“Sweetness you looked so poised in that wrap dress, trying so hard to be serious and professional. All I could think about was making you scream and shake that stuffytake me seriouslyexterior and find that wild animal we’d all fucked the night before.”

No matter how dirty our playtime got, whenever we spoke to her in the same way outside of the club, she blushed like a virgin. Even in instances where no one else was within miles of where we sat. Every time it thickened my already stiffening cock.

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